


A Christmas Tale

by moonphase9



Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Feel-good, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Swearing, Work In Progress, nightmare before christmas-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonphase9/pseuds/moonphase9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is a troll who lives in Halloween Town. One day he's had enough of being bullied by his family and so he runs away from home. All he wants is to find a nice bridge he can live under in peace and solitude. However, he finds himself stumbling into a bright, sparkly new world with some extraordinary characters. What will life hold for him there? Will it be more than a bridge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the crap title.

“Haha! Shrimpie, shrimpie!”

“Shut the fuck up!” spat Frank, “I ain’t no shrimp!”

“Oh yeah?” his eldest brother towered over him, “then why’s you so short?”

The other trolls all laughed loudly and Frank pursed his lips before running up the muddy riverbank and out from under the grey, stonework bridge.  A few feet away was a tall, wonky tower made of deep blue compacted soil. That’s where mother lived.

“Go tell on us if you want,” his brothers yelled from under the bridge, “but it’s not like she’ll care!”

Frank rolled his shoulders and slowly went to the tower anyway, squinting his eyes from the brightness of the evening sun. At the front door were seven Hell Hounds. They were giant, slobbering creatures, with dark black fur with a scarlet undercoating. They had large black claws and scratched at the deep blue earth.Each had three red eyes with large black pupils.  
  
They smelt Frank and began to snarl and growl at him. He flinched back from their dripping jaws before eying the Tower door anxiously. Maybe he should leave it; Mother wasn’t fond of _any_ of her babies but she hated Frank the most. Not only was he another bastard troll, but he was a little one as well. He wasn’t even intimidating enough to properly guard her bridge. All trolls were hairy and over seven foot tall. Frank wasn’t hairy and didn’t even hit six foot. It was embarrassing.

“Go away!” shrieked out a shrill voice.

He looked up and saw, at the top of the tower at the highest window, his mother standing with a pair of binoculars and a megaphone. He saw her blonde hair piled high on her head. Her skin was white and smooth. Lady Trolls were always much prettier than male trolls, that’s how they fooled human men to mate with them.

“It’s me!” he said, pointlessly, “me…Frank…Ya son…”

“What.Do you. WANT?!”

He stared. Suddenly he felt a bit stupid grassin’ on his brothers for calling him Shrimpie.

He shrugged, “I-I just wanted to see if you were alright…?”

He heard his brothers giggling delightedly behind him and he soon found out why. It seems the Troll Mother wasn’t too fond of social calls, even if they were from her own children. The tower door opened and a pack of snarling dogs joined the Guards at the front. A pack of at least twelve Hell Hounds now faced Frank.

He was tough, but not that tough.

As the laughter of Mother and his brothers rang out into the evening air, the Hell Hounds chased Frank  through the countryside of Halloween. They went over the grey stonework Troll Bridge, through the black Twisted Woods, across the pale wilderness of the Desolate Plains of Woe before finally ending up in the cheerfully dark and macabre Halloween Town.

 As he reached the High Street, the dogs made their way back home.  Hell-Hounds weren’t allowed in Halloween Town by decree of Mayor Pickwell, and no one went against Pickwell, not even the Troll Mother. In Halloween Town all kinds of atrocities walked about freely, singing songs and living their daily lives. Halloween had been a big success this year and everyone was in a good mood.

Well…everyone the trolls. They were pretty much obsolete now. No humans were scared of trolls anymore. Frank looked enviously at the Undead. It was all about zombies now; they were all the rage.  Frank rolled his eyes. They weren’t even all that scary, ghosts were useless and noisy, poltergeists were a nuisance and zombies were just unsightly. Trolls actually ate children and pets and goats. Surely that was more deserving of human fear than these poor shadows of death?

As the trolls became less useful at Halloween, they’d been relegated further and further away from the rest of society until now, when they were on the outskirts. Mother hadn’t left her tower in almost a decade from the shame, resentment and anger she felt at the rest of Halloween Town.

 _“She didn’t even want to speak to me,”_   he thought mournfully. His brothers had told him how when he had been born she was so frustrated at having another troll boy that she’d attempted to drown him in their river. Fortunately, (or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it,) his father had stopped her. She tried other ways of getting rid of him after that, but nothing worked. His father soon vanished and Frank had never known him. His brothers refused to talk about him. Frank always assumed that his Father must have gotten bored of trying to rescue him all the time.

He watched the evening wane on and thought about going home. His heart felt heavy with the prospect.  He would be mocked mercilessly for his humiliation at the jaws of the Hello Hounds today, on top of the usual teasing and bullying he endured. Slowly he got back up and wandered around town in the hopes of wasting more time and putting off the inevitable walk of shame back home. Because it was getting late in the evening many creatures were resting up, ready to cause havoc and mayhem throughout the night. Dawn and Evening were quiet times in Halloween Town.

Frank walked into the centre square and looked at the statue of Jack Skelington, the old Pumpkin King. It was said that Jack had ruled fairly and wisely for two hundred years before he and his lady love disappeared one day into the ether. Frank stared at the statue and wished he could disappear, only he had no lady love to go with him. No one wanted Frank. Short, stupid, un-scary, un-hairy. Useless, useless, useless…

Finally he stood up, eyes shining slightly. No one wanted him? Fine! He didn’t need any of them either! He’d vanish, just like Jack did.

 _“I’ll find a place to be all alone,_ " he decided, _“I can live in peace, no one calling me Shrimpie and laughing at me being a troll or for being so short.”_

Frank didn’t have any belongings aside from his tattered rags about his body, so he left straight away. He went in the opposite direction of home, hoping to see somewhere new. Maybe a new Bridge where he could live all alone, eating passing goats and scaring children on occasion. Frank wasn’t deluded enough to hope for friends. He’d never had friends and didn’t ever expect to have any. He didn’t deserve the love of his family, which was supposed to be given freely and without judgement, so how could he expect anyone to _chose_ to care about him?

 He walked out past the Town and into the woods. Unlike the Twisted Forest, these woods were full of light brown trees that erupted with orange leaves. The result was a sort of permanent autumn. Scattered about the woodland floor were pumkin heads, all with various carvings done by the locals. Little red flowers with petals like blood drops grew up amongst the dry brown grass, roping around the pumpkin heads and over the gnarled roots of the young trees. Frank took his time walking through the trees. He'd never been in such a place before, never having gone this far from home.

The amber glow of the sun resting in a pink sky splashed a warm glow over the woods, making them seem soft and inviting. Slowly, he found himself in one of those peculiar circular openings that seem to appear naturally in woods sporadically.

All around him were particularly large trees and upon each tree was a small door with a painting on it. Frank felt a little anxious for he had never even heard of this place before and did not understand what any of the symbols meant.

He frowned and geared himself up; he might not be the tallest, hairiest, scariest troll but he wasn’t going to allow himself to get scared of some paintings! What could he do now anyway? Go back home? No way! No one wanted him there. There was no point being somewhere where he only made those around him and himself unhappy.

Choosing completely at random, (one that boasted a strange triangular tree surrounded by small white balls), Frank yanked open a door and went through it.

And that was how Frank ended up in Christmas Town.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank stared in amazement at the soft, white rain that drifted from the heavy clouds above. The atmosphere was cold and crisp, not unlike his hometown, but it had a slightly different tinge to it; a promise was hinted in the air. He put out his hand and let one piece of white rain fall on to his hand. It was very cold, and its fluffy whiteness immediately turned to recognisable water after a second or so. Had he transformed it?

He looked up and scanned his surroundings. All of the trees were green and triangular. Little lights and treats were playfully scattered around all of their branches. It was very attractive. He walked over to the trees, inspecting them with interest. His feet were bare and he could feel the cold white stuff that coated the ground pooling softly against his rough, hot skin. These trees were smaller than back home but had a more jolly feel to them. There were no skulls and scary ghostly images hanging up. Instead there were happy, smiling faces painted onto glittery things. On top of each tree there was either an effigy of either a small humanoid girl with wings, or a bright yellow star. Were these the Rulers or Gods of this realm?

He continued through the small copse, noting how scattered about lay brightly coloured boxes, all with pretty bows on their tops.

It was all so strange.

Soon the smell of mixed spices hit his nose and the sound of laughter and music serenaded his ears. A warmth he didn’t recognise began to fill him up inside. He paused at the edge of the woods, almost afraid to look out.

Eventually he did though, peeking from behind a conifer tree he observed Christmas Town. The layout was similar to back home, only all the roofs were covered in snow, and all the chimneys puffed out warm, light grey smoke.  The lights were on everywhere. There wasn’t a single jack-o-lantern or anyone hiding in the shadows waiting to jump out on someone. In fact, everyone was out in the open, talking loudly or singing songs. 

Frank stared at the people, unlike back home where there was a large variety of different species, here everyone was relatively similar. They were all human-like, but they had noticeably sharper ears. They were all beautiful. He couldn’t believe how attractive they were. All had warm coloured skin, a spectrum of honeys and bronzes and fawns and chocolate, and they all wore thick clothes of red or green, with silly hats on their heads and curly-toed, soft boots on their feet.  They were all lean and sprightly.

Frank looked away and sat with his back to the tree trunk he had been hiding behind.  They were so different from the creatures back home. They were friendly and kind. Perhaps he could make friends with them…be one of them? He looked at his arms, which were now covered in goose pimples. He looked at his ragged clothing, a pair of tired, sagging dungarees. He took in his very pale skin and his bulky, heavy body. He wasn't anything like them. He’d never felt so pale and plain before.

Still, it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to try and fit in with these creatures, he just needed to find a quiet little bridge he could live under for the rest of his life.

“Erm, who are you?”

Frank whirled round and stared wide eyed and a couple of green clad Beautiful People.  One was a petite female with very long eyelashes that decorated a pair of very large, bright brown eyes. She had slim lips that were painted pink and were vaguely sparkly. To her immediate right was a tall male. He was also the most beautiful being Frank had ever seen. Heart hammering very hard in his chest, Frank stared momentarily. The boy was tall and slim. He had very brown skin, it looked warm and soft and seemed to glow. His hair was short and jet black. Likewise his eyes, large like the girls, were dewy and dark like a Deer's. Frank looked down his mouth dry and his skin heating up.

"Maybe he can't talk," he heard the girl whisper to the boy.

Pride swelled up in his chest. He was already seen as a pathetic loser back home, he wouldn't let that happen here. He'd rather be a big scary jerk than a fool. Frank puffed out his chest and did his best to look scary. “I’m looking for a bridge!”

The pair stared at him like his was a lunatic, glancing at one another in confusion, then looking back at him.

“Why do you want a bridge?” the female asked as if it was the most bizarre thing she'd ever heard of.

“To live under!” he said as nastily as possible; was she stupid or something?

The couple blinked rapidly. Frank wondered if they were a couple and suddenly felt as if he hated the girl.

“Why would you live under a bridge?” said the Beautiful Bronze Boy in a decidedly catty tone.

Frank found that he couldn’t quite look this one in the face. He could hear the blood pumping through his ears and his heart rate and breathing were up. “It aint nuthink or nuthink." He muttered, all his swagger suddenly deflating away, "I just... That’s where I live innit.”

The pair seemed to lower their hostility a little, drawing closer to him. If he could bear to look up he would have seen a sort of cautious sympathy in their eyes.

“Where are you from?” asked the girl, her maternal instincts coming out, “what are you exactly?”

“I’m a troll from Halloween-town of course. And I ain't going back there!” he roared the second bit unnecessarily frightening them. It seems that none of them were used to abrasive words or voices raised in anger. Frank frowned; how different these creatures were from him and his family.

A few more green-clad creatures had heard the kerfuffle and were now making their way up the hill. On arrival they all watched Frank closely. No one had seen a troll before.

“Well this is Christmas town,” said the girl once she had recovered herself, “and we’re elves. We’ve only got one bridge. It’s made out of a giant candy stick. It’s only small though.”

“You can’t live under a bridge,” sighed the boy aka Most Amazing Creature Ever. “What’s your name?”

“Frank.”

“Well…Frank…I’m Stephen and this is Chantelle." Frank blinked. Stephen. His name was Stephen. He gulped. Stephen was a nice sounding name. It was quite long and it suited the boy. "

We should speak to our leader," continued Stephen, " about all this.”

“But he’s away delivering gifts!” complained another female elf. She was the colour of dark chocolate and looked very cross about the whole thing. “ Anyway I’m not sure he should be here,” she added, giving Frank a wary eye. The others around agreed with her; Frank looked dangerous.

“He’s not hurt anyone,” insisted Chantelle, “and he’s only looking for a bridge to live under.”

“You are not staying under a bridge,” said Stephen, Princeliest of the Elves, “You can stay with me.” He smiled warmly at Frank, who had no way of responding as he’d never experienced kindness before.

So he stood gaping like an idiot until Stephen, laughing softly, took his hand ( _‘it’s so warm…’_ ) and led him into the heart of Christmas Town.


	3. Chapter 3

“I just don’t think Father Christmas will approve Fraser!” cried Alfie in exasperation.

“Why not?” answered his fellow Tall Elf, Fraser, who for reasons unknown (as Alfie couldn’t be bothered to ask) was wearing a pair of glasses with googly eyes wobbling about on the lenses. “It’s all the rage now. Kids will think it’s crunk.”

This was officially more bullshit than Alfie could handle.

He huffed, “right, erm _, first of all_ , ‘Pimp My Ride’ is practically ancient in the Mortal Realm, so this,” he gestured at the brightly decorated, offensive sleigh which was the source of their disagreement, “is completely out-dated as well as obscene. Also no one, **NO ONE,** says crunk anymore. It didn’t even make sense within the sentence in which you used it! 'Crunk' is a _verb_ not an adjective, you uneducated tool!”

Fraser leaned confidently against his tricked out sleigh. He wasn't at all offended by Alfie's outburst and most of what the Tall Elf had said was already dissipating out of his brain. “Look, man, I ain’t a teacher,” he explained reasonably, “I don’t know or care about linguistics. But what I do know is how to create a Hot Ride!”

“There is a problem!” shouted Cleo who had just burst through the doors of Santa’s Workshop, effectively killing their argument.

“Whoa there,” cried Fraser, “Little Elf, why so much… hubbub. _.bubba_?”  As he drawled out the latter part of his sentence, he slowly leaned forward and pulled a hubba bubba sweetie pack out of the pocket of his blinging waist coat. He grinned as if he had pulled off a wonderfully 'punny' joke.

In  response Cleo slapped the Hubba-Bubba sweetie out of his hand with a _tsk_. The sweetie could be heard smacking off the wall. Fraser went to collect it.

“A newcomer, a strange thing, has arrived just now.” Cleo explained to Alfie, “We spotted him spying on us in the Candy Forest.”

Alfie’s azure eyes went wide, “OH, EM, GEE, seriously?”

Cleo let out a long-suffering sigh, “where’s Rosie? I need a proper tall elf to speak to.”

“I’m a proper Tall Elf,” he responded,feeling quite offended and drawing himself up. “I’m the _tallest_ in fact. I can deal with this issue. A stranger you say? Is he dangerous?”

“No idea." She said with a shrug, "But he’s ugly; a sort of pale grey, with a bit of brown hair on his head, dutty-ass feet, shit clothes, a bad attitude and some very sharp teeth. I don’t like the look of him, but Chantelle and Stephen seem to like him. But they like everyone a bit different. Stephen took him back to his house last I saw.”

Alfie knew that Stephen and Chantelle were very inclusive. They were friendly and non-judgemental, so Father Christmas allocated them to work with children who were isolated or a bit different. He could easily imagine them trying to befriend a dangerous creature.

“Lead me to Stephen’s house,” he ordered Cleo, impressed that she did as instructed (though she did suck her teeth-hard and long- before doing so.)

 

* * *

 

The elves of Christmas Town lived in small cottages made of gingerbread. Stephens' was no exception, though it was further out of town.

“It’s a bit annoying being on the outskirts,” he complained to Frank, “I like to be where all the action is typically.”

Frank shuffled his feet in the white snow. His feet were beginning to hurt a little from the cold, but he didn’t mention it. “I like being on the outskirts,” he said roughly, “me and my family have always been on the outside looking in. Mum doesn’t like it, but I do.”

Stephen turned and looked at him with bright, brown eyes. Frank glanced away, unable to hold the gaze. There had been too much emotion in there; Frank could see genuine interest, as well as sympathy. He didn't understand it and he almost resented it.

“Why?” Stephen asked softly.

Frank shrugged, “I don’t like other creatures much I guess.”

He flinched a little when Stephen suddenly grasped his wrist, “well you’ll like us,” the elf grinned happily. He pulled Frank along up some pastel coloured steps to a round, green door. He opened it up (there was no lock or key) to reveal a small, but warm and cosy, interior.

Inside, Frank reveled in the warm, digging his frozen toes into the plush carpet. Stephen invited him to sit on a sofa just in front of the fire.

“We’ll get you some clothes tomorrow,” he said, grabbing a furry white blanket and wrapping it around Frank’s cold body, tucking in the edges, “I would lend you my clothes but they wouldn’t fit. Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I dunno what that is.”

“Oh my gosh!” cried Stephen, “you have to try it! I can’t imagine going a day without at least one cup. What do you drink back home?”

“Drain water.”

Stephen blinked in shock and swayed a little with nausea, “eh, right. Well, let me get you that hot chocolate.”

He practically minced into the next room which Frank could see into as there was no door.

He lent down and tucked the blanket over his feet, which were steadily regaining their normal colour, before sitting up and looking around the cottage. It smelt delicious, and all around the room were twinkling fairy-lights, like what he’d seen out in what he now knew was called Candy Forest. The floors were rough wood, but had many thick, furry carpets laying over them to keep in the heat. The walls were painted a warm amber, toned vermillion from the fire.  There were many pictures on the wall, mostly of younger Stephen and what Frank assumed were his parents.

Stephen came back in with a plate of cookies, which he placed on a coffee table in front of the couch, and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. On Stephen’s there was a picture of a elf with its arms out and a caption reading, ‘kiss me, I’m elfy!” On his own were the words, “thank _elf_ it’s Friday!!”

Frank didn’t get the jokes.

“I didn’t add cow milk,” Stephen was babbling beside him, “because I’m allergic to dairy. And gluten. So it’s gluten free and dairy free all round here. But the chocolate still tastes nice, and we have sweeteners in the cookies and soya milk. So not too bad…”

Frank anxiously gave a sideways look at Stephen and saw the elf staring at him with large eyes. He recognised that facial expression; Stephen wanted approval.

So, Frank sipped his hot chocolate. Thick, sweet nectar eased into his mouth, flooding his body with delicious warmth. He looked at Stephen quickly. “This is amazing.”

Stephen smirked, all anxiety now gone from his face and replaced with a smug, cat-like satisfaction. “Well thank you. I added a bit of honey in there as well. It’s you’re first hot chocolate so I wanted it extra sweet and tasty. A bit like me.”

He looked at Frank and stared. Frank was smiling- a genuine, sweet smile that seemed to soften his whole face and create a gentle look in those green-brown eyes. Stephen found himself smiling back without even thinking. Frank smiling was almost… _almost…_ adorable.

 

 

 

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost. Not completely.


	4. Chapter 4

Stephen had been born a blessed child. Raised in a world of crisp cold and warm love, he had always known friendship, affection and the knowledge that his parents loved him unconditionally. His parents had been very much in love with one another. They had met on a particularly magical snow ride with Santa one Christmas Eve. Mother had been a Tall Elf and Father had been a Small Elf, so before then they hadn't really run in the same circles. But it had been an instant attraction. From that night of seeing each other in the cold starlight they had always been together.

Stephen had always wanted that for himself; to look into the eyes of another, surrounded by soft snow and cold winds, and see the moonlight reflecting in the eyes of some handsome elf and just _knowing_ they were the one for him. 

Instead, this Christmas Eve, he sat in his warm cottage sitting across the way from a strange, dirty figure that was sipping noisily from his dainty cup. When Frank had smiled just now and met Stephen's eyes for just a moment, Stephen's breath had caught.  The warm light of the fireside was reflected in brown-green eyes and it was no handsome elf but rather a strange foreigner. Stephen felt no certainty, but a type of fear and anxiety that shot like electric through his body, humming and warming him up.

Frank was strange but there was something about him, something about the way his face lit up in that short moment of honesty and joy.

Stephen always wanted Frank to be happy. He wanted to see him smile again.

It was similar to the feeling he had when he had met his first human child. He had been informed by Father Christmas that he was to comfort a child on Christmas Eve who had been waiting up for them. Of course, children aren't allowed to see Santa, but sometimes exceptions are made; it keeps the magic alive and also, some children needed to see Santa. The young girl in question was one such child. 

Stephen had snuck into the room. There were no decorations.  She sat alone by her bed. She was not weeping but she was shivering with cold. Her bed only had a sheet upon it in which she could wrap herself. Her eyes, brown and light, widened when she saw him.

"Who are you?" she'd whispered, though he knew she'd already guessed.

"One of Santa's helpers," Stephen had smiled, though his heart hurt when he took in her cold figure and the bruise purpling her eye. "Father Christmas knows all about you Evie, and he's bought you a gift. I'm here to deliver."

She frowned, suddenly resentful and distrusting, "Father Christmas had never bought me nothing before!"

"I know," he sighed and sat beside her. She shuffled closer to him, unconsciously drawn to his warmth, "it's because Father Christmas finds it hard to get into houses were there is no love. We know that your daddy and mommy do not always treat you well."

She stiffened beside him, uncomfortable; children were always loyal to parents, even if they were evil and undeserving of that child's love. But this needed to be said.

"It's important that you tell someone," he continued, "maybe that nice teacher from school?"

"Mr. Mason?" she asked, looking up with big eyes.

"Oh yes, that's a good idea!" he cried.

As she smiled he took his pouch and pulled out a large warm blanket and wrapped it around her. He then gave her a small necklace. It was white with a single blue diamond at its end. She gaped, "this is mine?"

"That's right. Father Christmas made it just for you."

"It's very grown up."

"He knew you'd want this more than any toy."

She smiled deeply, it reaching her eyes and warming them, before nodding. She took the necklace and put it on, hiding under her thin nightshirt. She placed her hand over the shirt, feeling through it to wear the jewel hung. 

Stephen understood that the necklace had some sort of meaning, something deeper than it being from Father Christmas. What, he did not know. He knew that it was private and chose not to ask.

He had completed his task, but chose to stay a little longer. Lifting Evie onto her bed, he sat behind her and cuddled her before asking if she wanted a warm drink. She replied the affirmative and so he took out a large  flask from the same small satchel. She stared at the satchel in wonder as he poured her some hot chocolate.

"Here you are," he said, pressing the cup into her hands. As she drank he kissed her head slightly and hoped and hoped and hoped that after he left she would be ok...

 

Now he sat in his living watching another sipping a hot chocolate and recovering from...something. No one ran away from home for now reason.

"Why are you here Frank?”

The troll shrugged, “It’s nuffink worth talking ‘bout really. What do you guys do?”

 Stephen sat back, a small smile playing on his lips. He didn’t like that Frank was being evasive. But he knew better than to force someone to speak about something they wanted to forget about. Besides, a good elf never let’s an opportunity to rage about Christmas.

“We make toys for Father Christmas all year round. The Tall Elves watch over the whole thing and make sure it all runs smoothly. Then on the 25th of December, all the gifts are given out, mainly by Father Christmas and a handful of selected elves.” He gestured wildly as he spoke, "we make the children of the world happy! We spread good cheer and goodwill. We try to make the cold, winter months as pleasant as possible, even for those who have very little, or nothing at all. The 25th is a special time for us, we travel all around the world! It's a real honour to be one of the selected."

“But you're still here, so he didn’t select you!” Frank felt hurt on Stephen’s behalf, Father Christmas was clearly an idiot, “why not?”

Stephen laughed lightly, causing a warm, fuzzy feeling deep in Frank stomach. His previous anger quickly dissipated.

“I went last year,” Stephen explained, “everyone has a turn to go at least four or five times in a lifetime. Father Christmas is very kind like that.”

“Why is he called 'Father' Christmas? Is he your dad?”

“No,” Stephen  was laughing out right now, “but he did invent the First Born. He created our race, so he’s sort of our father in that sense.”

Frank nodded, a serious look in his eyes. Stephen observed them for a  while. He’d thought them scary at first, dark and dead, like the eyes of a shark, but now, in the firelight and with conversation he was reviewing that opinion. Now he could see a lot of passion and burning within them. The colour was interesting too, sort of swampy, but it a pretty kind of way. It was still scary, but a different, _exciting_ sort of scary.

On a whim he lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers against Frank’s strangely rounded ears. He saw the Troll’s eyes widen and a very pale pink blush spreading across his face. Stephen smiled softly and decided to try again at working Frank out.

“Do you have a dad Frank?”

“No,” ah, there, he was closed off again.

“A mom though?” Stephen tentatively pushed, “you mentioned her earlier.”

“Yeah, a mom and brothers. I don’t like them and they don’t like me. So I left.” He took a deep swig of Hot Chocolate before adding, “don’t ask any more.”

Stephen held up his hands, “I won’t. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Here, have a biscuit.”

He was just reveling in Frank showing his, ‘oh my gosh, this food/beverage is amazing!’ expression when there was a strange tooting in the distance. The strange tooting came closer and closer to his home. Then there was the sound of snow being displaced outside his door, before someone knocking so loudly on it that the door shook slightly.

He suspected Chantelle would come to visit to check on Frank, but she didn’t make such a racket on arrival. He sadly moved away from his troll and instead went to the door and opened it. In front of him were two Tall Elves, (Fraser and Alfie,) a sled which had been  _awfully decorated_  and a very angry and embarrassed Cleo sitting within it.

“What have you done to Santa’s sleigh?” Stephen gasped. “It’s…an abomination! Father Christmas will murder you for this!”

Alfie rolled his eyes. “It’s all Fraser’s fault,” he sniped, “He wanted to ‘update’ it.”

Fraser, who was wearing standard issue Tall Elf uniform, but with the addition of a gold chain (complete with a medallion of a Christmas tree), several sequins sewn into the white cuffs and two sparklers in his hat (which had to be a violation of health and safety rules), laughed jovially.

“Father Christmas is going to love it,” he cried, “he’s always up for a laugh is the old man.”

“He’s a curmudgeon,” complained Alfie, “who only gets worse every year and he isn’t the only one looking forwards to when he finally retires.”

Fraser gasped, “how can you say such things-”

Alfie ignored him and turned to Frank, “we’re here because we heard that we have a newcomer.”

“Yeah,” Stephen looked passed Alfie and at Cleo. She scowled at him in return. “His name is Frank.” Stephen shut the door behind him so that they were all outside, “listen,” he whispered, “I’m not sure but I think Frank’s had a real hard time of it. I think we should just be nice for now. I don’t think he needs an interrogation.”

“We don’t have open borders here Stephen,” shouted Cleo, “can’t just have any old monster coming in…”

“He isn’t a monster!”

“I am actually,” said a voice.

They all turned to see Frank hanging out of the small round window beside the front door. “I’m a troll, that’s a sort of monster innit.”

“Monsters…” began Alfie, barely able to keep still as Fraser was hiding behind him and gripping his sides, “monsters scare children, don’t they?”

Frank shrugged nonchalantly and nodded, “yeah, that’s my job. I scare kids.”

The response was immediate; Stephen backed away, looking at Frank with new eyes, Cleo stood up hostilely from the sled and Alfie’s eyes hardened. Stephen couldn't believe it, Frank...Frank was a monster! The sort of creature that hurt little children like Evie! 

“Then I have no choice but to arrest you Mr. Frank!” Cried Alfie with unusual authority and anger.

Frank stood dumbfounded, glancing at Stephen who returned his gaze, only his was filled with horror and hurt.

The troll looked down.

He'd messed up again.


	5. Chapter 5

The Christmas Elves prison was pretty pathetic. It was actually a lot nicer than his home back in Halloween Town. The 'prison' was located inside an old makeshift shed that the Elves stored some of their old toys, so Frank was looking out at various dolls and toy cars and teddy bears. The bars of the cell itself were made out of red liquorice. Inside was a warm bed with a fluffy pillow and a patchwork quilt; a sink with a fluffy white matt beneath it; a calendar full of photos of baby animals on one wall; several pop-up books on a shelf above the bed; a picture on the bed stand table of a bunny; a bowl of sweeties and a ‘Welcome’ mat in front of the jail cell door.

It would have been very easy to break out of, but Frank didn’t really see the point. He had nowhere to go and the cell was very comfortable.

Fraser, standing outside the prison cell, watched the troll with dark serious eyes.

“We don’t normally throw people into our cell," he said quietly, "Well…you’re the first person to ever actually be put in there.” Fraser crossed his arms, “but you must understand why we have done this. I’m sorry but scaring children is not ok. I know…I know…this is harsh stuff…harsh.” Fraser leaned down and now put his hands on his bent knees, breathing heavily. He seemed to be having a hard time saying any of this. Frank watched with a faint frown of confusion.

“I am sorry…I am." Fraser continued, the angst lacing his voice, "I mean, two wrongs don’t make a right do they?” He looked at Frank with wet, imploring eyes. Frank stared back nonplussed.

Fraser turned away and made weeping noises, “I just…oh god I’ve never experienced this. Darn it all!! I’m an elf not a jailor!! A lover, not a hater!!” He turned to look at Frank and said kindly, “would you like some chocolate? That’ll be fair right? Bygones be bygones... No, no, no! We’re being strict on you! No more Mr. Nice Guy from me. You,” he pointed at Frank and wailed, “stop your endless mind games.”

Fraser then fled the room whilst weeping.

Frank watched where Fraser had run to for a while until, satisfied the crazy idiot wouldn’t return, he lay down on his bed. It was quite the experience! It was soft and pleasant and smelt nice. He’d never slept in a bed before and this was so different from sleeping under the bridge at home he found himself getting lost in the sensation. How could anything be better than this?

 Well, he would have preferred it at Stephen’s but he supposed that bridge was burned now. He’d seen how Stephen had looked at him, dark, dewy eyes filled with disgust. Frank sighed and wrapped himself up under the quilt. He knew the camaraderie between them wouldn’t last long. Frank always found a way of messing everything up; his mam and brothers were always telling him he was stupid like that, and it was true.

The lights of the prison cell were turned off, but the tea-lights from outside shone through the various windows. He could see the little flecks of white falling from the sky again. Frost built up against the windows. He could smell ginger and cinnamon and tangerine. He snuggled deeper into his bed, the cell wasn’t as warm as Stephen’s little cottage.

Outside, young and old voices alike joined together to sing a light but slightly sombre, winter ditty. As he listened his eyes grew heavier and heavier.

_Snow-flakes fall,_

_Down the lone-ly path,_

_The Ro-bin sings,_

_That the road is stark._

_I glance at my love,_

_She looks back at me,_

_And I can see,_

_Eter-nity._

_Time moves,_

_To a wea-ry beat,_

_But a love such as ours,_

_It will never defeat._

 

The words reverberating around his brain, Frank slowly succumbed to slumber.

The following morning Frank was awoken by smells of fried egg and bacon, and the cheers of the elves outside. He sat up and stretched, a small smile on his face. Honestly, he’d never smiled so much since coming to this place! He rubbed his cheeks; they ached a little. He was loathe to leave the warmth of his bed, but he could see the white light of day pouring through the windows.  He tentatively put his bare feet on the ground. It was cold, but not as bad as the snow, so he stood up and walked over to the window.

Outside it had stopped snowing, but fresh crisp snow lay on the ground. The Elves were all running in one direction, up somewhere passed where he could see. He grunted and walked away, sitting back on his bed. His belly grumbled and he considered eating the bars but eventually decided against it; he didn’t want Fraser to start crying again.

There was a knock on the door of the shed. Frank stared at it, not knowing why anyone would be banging on the door. Eventually it slowly opened and Stephen nervously popped his head round.

“Frank?”

The troll straightened his back.

Stephen came into the shed and looked around, not focusing on Frank for some time. One hand carried a tray with a plate of delicious smelling foods.

“I thought I’d bring breakfast,” he muttered, “as everyone else is going to be too distracted with Santa’s arrival, including the Tall Elves.”

He passed the tray to Frank, bending the liquorice bars to get it in. He still wouldn’t look Frank in the eye.

“Fanks,” said Frank quietly.  He began to eat with a little trepidation, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of the elf. E found himself wishing Stephen would just leave, but instead the elf had settled down on the floor in front of the cage, his legs crossed.

“Don’t you want to go see Father Christmas?” He asked.

“I do but…Frank, do you really scare children?”

“Yeah. It’s my job.”

“But that’s awful!”

“The kids like it.”

Stephen looked up in shock, “they do?”

“Of course. We come out at Halloween. That’s my home; Halloween Town. Every year, at the end of October, when our realms are closely linked, we creep out of the shadows and scare everyone. The children dress up as monsters and scare each other. They swap candies and sweets and tell frightening tales. They remember the dead and those they have lost and it’s another way of saying goodbye.  Even the adults get involved, they too dress up and have parties and watch scary shows.”

Frank had never said so much in one go, but Stephen’s eyes were so wide and so interested he couldn’t help but go into detail. He ducked his head and finished his breakfast. It tasted extraordinary and he was beginning to think that Stephen was some sort of wizard with cooking.

“That’s…fascinating,” Stephen said at last, “I’ve never heard anything like that before. So, do you hit the children, or call them names?"

Frank frowned and wrinkled his nose, "what? No."

"And...and they remember the dead? Doesn't that make them sad?"

"Yeah," shrugged Frank, "but that's ok." he elaborated, seeing Stephen's crest-fallen face, "it's ok to be sad or to miss people. Just like it's ok to have the thrill of a scare."

"Wow, children are a lot stronger than I initially thought.” Stephen looked up at Frank, who had finished his meal, and laughed. Frank didn’t know why until Stephen took out a tissue from a box on a table outside the cell, and wiped Frank’s mouth.

“You’re a lot like a child yourself,” said the elf fondly. He threw the tissue in the bin and stood. “Come, we should get you to Father Christmas ASAP. We need to explain everything to him. He’ll decide what to do.”

“Will he send me back?” asked Frank.

“No idea.”

“I won’t go back.”

Stephen looked sympathetic. He held out his hand and stroked the side of Frank’s face briefly. The Troll seized up, still very unused to how Stephen would touch him. “Santa is the kindest man in the world,” the elf said softly, “you can trust him to make the right decision.”

He pulled the cell bars aside, and Frank stepped out. Putting his hand in Frank’s again, the elf led the troll out into the wintery outdoors.


	6. Chapter 6

The snow was cold and unforgiving. Flurries fell sporadically from the slate-grey sky.  Noticing the shiver through their joined hands, Stephen looked over and saw Frank in just his filthy brown dungarees and no shoes. His heart hurt a little. It was bad enough that he had abandoned Frank to that awful, awful cell, but now he had even been too stupid to get something for the poor troll to put on his feet! 

He remembered back to the night before. After Frank's arrest he had sat in his room completely in shock. He couldn't believe that he could like someone who was so hurtful and so dangerous! Did that make him a monster? _"To think, I thought it was something like the first attraction between my parents!"_ He had thought to himself, _"To think I could have allowed myself to fall in love with a monster!"_

He'd washed out the mugs of hot chocolate and gone to bed, feeling very sore and sorry and upset. He had bad dreams that night, awakening tired the next day and feeling anxious.

In the end, he did what he always did when he felt bad, he went to seek comfort from his best friend forever, Chantelle.

"I'm so stupid," he had told her at the doorstep of her little cottage, before she invited him inside and he had spilled the beans. Chantelle had had many bad crushes in the past, including a very bad one of Tall Elf Alfie. He knew she wouldn't judge him but would understand.

"Are you sure he's evil Frank?" she asked once he'd finished his rant.

"Of course he's evil! He's a monster! An actual, breathing, living monster. He hurts children. Oh god, do you think he eats them?"

Chantelle paled a little at the suggestion, but powered on anyway, "I'm not sure I got that impression..."

"Well maybe we were wrong. Cleo didn't like the look of him and she is part of our protection force, so she must have a clue about these sort of things."

Chantelle waved her hand dismissively, "Cleo doesn't trust anyone. Frank's an easy target, he's different. He looks different, acts different. He's from...somewhere else. He has a different culture. It might not be as bad as you think. Give him a chance, go talk to him."

Stephen hugged himself, "I'm not sure I want to."

Chantelle smiled softly before standing and pulling her friend into a hug, "We often do things we don't want to. Remember how scared we were to be the ones who'd work with all the Sad and Forgotten children? We didn't think we were clever or brave or empathetic enough, but we've helped children, even saved children. I think this is another moment like that. Go out on a limb." She paused before adding, "I saw how he looked at you. I don't think he'd hurt you babe."

* * *

 

And she'd been right of course, Frank had been innocent. Below the jubilation was the shame that he hadn't believed in Frank from the start.

“I’m sorry Frank,” he rushed, “you must be so cold.”

“It’s alright.”

“I should have found you clothes before we went out. God I’m so stupid.” He felt all the frustration and self loathing and guilt welling up. He rubbed his eyes angrily before turning to walk away.

Stephen found himself being tugged backwards when Frank suddenly stopped walking. He turned and looked at the troll who was giving him that fierce stare again. Stephen felt his heart speeding up and his body heating up a little; he sort of preferred it when Frank had kept shyly glancing away because that stare was...well...very very intense. The wealth of emotion and sheer will was intimidating. 

“You ain’t stupid.” He said factually in his low voice, “you’re nice. Like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. Really, really nice.” He grit his teeth together, hating that he was no good with words and feeling like an imbecile. He frowned at Stephen, determined for the Elf to have some inkling of how much he’d grown to admire and respect him during their short acquaintance. “Never think anything else.”

“Well…ok,” answered Stephen awkwardly, letting a small smile play on his face. “It-it will get warmer when we get to Santa’s Grotto. Come!”

They ran down a small, snowy slope, meeting the train of elves making their way to Father Christmas’ grotto. Stephen was slightly ahead and couldn’t believe how…giddy he felt. It was silly really. He knew very little about Frank and some of what he did know was pretty unsavoury, but he still couldn’t help feeling a bit of warmth and even attraction to the odd creature. The others would be disgusted if they found out, but elves were sometimes a bit too judgemental, and what business was it of theirs anyway?

 _“Not that anything has, or will happen, probably,”_ he thought as they reached the bottom. They joined the crowd of elves, who gave Frank a wide berth, many staring at him in shock and horror, as not all the elves had seen him the night before. Stephen stroked Frank’s joined hand with his thumb slightly, enjoying Frank’s wide eyed look of surprise at the contact. Yeah…he was certain, Frank was kind of adorable. There, he admitted it to himself and didn’t care. Hopefully Father Christmas would see that Frank is a good sort as well.

Frank wasn’t sure exactly what he had been expecting to see when he saw Santa, but this behemoth certainly wasn’t it.

Father Christmas was a giant man covered in thick green and brown furs. He sat in a snowy grotto. Creating the grotto were great, white arching Sycamore  branches, which sprouted evergreen leaves that smelt strongly of pine, and great batches of Holly and Mistletoe. On top of the arch on the outside, a heap of snow covered the tip, making the inside curiously warm. From the ceiling of the arched grotto were thin, translucent icicles, creating a somewhat crass chandelier effect. It reminded Frank a little of a Cathedral, only smaller and more compact. The Elves all gather in front of the main entrance, the top of the crowd being headed up by the Tall Elves who each were supposed to be giving a run-down of how Christmas Town was whilst Father Christmas was away.

Father Christmas himself sat upon a fur-cloaked throne. Lounging on the ground directly around the throne were huge glossy Reindeer. They had dazzling white fur which contrasted greatly against their mournful jet-black eyes. It was clear that they were magical creatures by the shimmering of their fur (catching the winter light and reflecting off their fur in pale colours, not unlike what is seen in the sky known as ‘Northern Lights’) and by the deep intelligence their gazes held. Father Christmas himself looked everything like a demi-god- great and hulking and of indeterminate age yet giving off an aura of wisdom and age.

Frank actually felt a little cowed in his presence.

The crowd of elves parted easily, many of the little helpers being stunned by Frank. Father Christmas had been sitting bored, listening to Alfie and Fraser bickering over who had ruined his sleigh, but as Frank and Stephen entered the clearing in the grotto, he suddenly straightened up. He peered down at the two small creatures. Stephen automatically curtseyed and grinned, but Frank was captivated by the great white beard which covered the bottom half of Santa’s face, and by the deep, icy blue eyes which observed him in turn.

“And what,” began Santa, his voice suitably booming, “is a troll doing in Christmas Town?”

Frank stared, unable to find his voice, but Stephen (who could tell Santa was not angry) smiled warmly and answered; “this is Frank. He comes from Halloween Town. He was being treated terribly by his mother, and so he’s come here to live. He wanted a bridge to sleep under, but I’m sure we can get him a bed and a cottage.”

There were ripples of small gasps of horror at what Stephen had suggested- it was quite radical! Never had a non-elf lived amongst them before.

“The Troll Mother,” said Santa, almost ruminatively, “I know of her. Met her once, a few millennia ago. Or perhaps her mother… Not an unpleasant being, but certainly not maternal, despite her given title.” Cold blue eyes carefully analysed Frank again, “you certainly are an unusual looking Troll. But I have no knowledge in this area.  Alfie!”

Alfie the Tall Elf yelped to attention, “y-yes Lord Santa?”

Father Christmas rolled his eyes and the ‘Lord’ but continued nonetheless, “get for me your father.”

“My dad,” scoffed Alfie, “what would he know!?”

“Plenty,” cried out a cheerful, and somewhat nerdy voice. The crowd parted again as Alfie’s father stumbled into the main arena. Surprisingly, unlike his son, he was not a Tall Elf but the regular small kind, albeit a bit paler and a bit rounder than the others. He grinned at Santa and bowed. “What is it you need me for?”

“What do you know about Troll boys, Martin?”

“Erm…nothing, milord.” His non-plussed expression quickly changed to a leer, “but I know plenty of their ladies!”

Frank heard Alfie groaning loudly in the crowd somewhere.

“Indeed?” asked Father Christmas, sounding bored and unimpressed, “do tell.”

“Well it was a few hundred years ago,” began Martin. Frank looked around, noticing a number of elves beginning it sit down. Stephen sat beside him and before Frank could join him, two elf girls, Chantelle and a pretty golden skinned elf with jet black hair and slim glasses, skipped over to him and gave him a blanket to sit on. As he did, they even wrapped his feet in the bit of blanket near the bottom by folding it up and over them. His feet began to tingle as they slowly warmed. He smiled softly, not sure what to say. Luckily Stephen said, ‘thank you’ for him.

“It was after Maria had left me,” the elf continued, “you know, Alfie’s mum…” (Alfie groaned loudly again- why did his dad insist on so publicly washing their laundry?) “ she ran off with that Egg Collector who worked for the Easter Bunny. Most distressing. Still, I found comfort in a few attractive ladies. One of them, of course, was the lovely Troll Mother.”

A few elves groaned, looking at Frank and thinking she must have been pretty ugly. Martin quickly defended himself, “oh Troll women are quite comely! Long, blonde hair flowing down like ringlets; soft, pale skin; red, plush lips; pink plush lips…you know….down there…”

Now Frank and Alfie simultaneously gagged- both nearly going to punch Martin- Frank held back by the kind hand of Stephen against his tense arm, and Alfie by a deluge of small elves toppling on top of him.

“We get the point, thank you Martin. Now…how long was you with the Troll Mother?”

“Only a year or so,” he shrugged, “I had to get back for my poor lonely boy.” He looked back at Alfie with absolute fondness in his eyes.

Frank suddenly felt jealous; why hadn’t his mother ever looked at him that way?

Oh yeah…because he’s a short, ugly idiot…how could he forget?

Father Christmas now sat back up, “Martin, you do realise why Troll Mothers are famous for being seductresses? Why they do it?”

The elf shrugged.

“It’s because they give birth to fifty or so troll boys every ten years. They do it repeatedly until they can finally give birth to a girl, which can take thousands of years. The boys are often left to their own devices and to raise themselves.”

“Oh…well…that’s a shame for them.”

“What d you think of the specimen of troll behind you?”

Martin looked back at Frank. They gazed at each other, both with dark green eyes and a slightly stupid expression.

Martin smiled and began talking to Frank as if he were a small child, “well! You’re a little fella for a troll, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck off!” barked Frank suddenly with violence, the elves around (except Stephen- who was getting used to all this) gasped in shock. “I ain’t small! Or a Shrimp! Or a shorty!!”

Martin hurried to the troll and put his arm around him, making Frank freeze up. “I never meant to hurt your feelings,” he said, “I’m short myself. Shorter than normal in fact. Don’t worry.”

He spoke so genuinely that Frank felt himself calming down. He looked at Martin anxiously. The elf had kind eyes and Frank softened his face a little- not allowing a smile, but letting it be known that something like that could perhaps show itself one day.

Martin beamed and rubbed Frank’s head, “there you are my boy! Feel better?”

Frank nodded.

“We should get you some warm cocoa,” continued Martin, “that always cheered up Alfie, who gets a bit huffy as well at times.”

“I like Cocoa,” said Frank stupidly.

“Of course you do,” boomed Father Christmas, “as do your brother and father.”

“Do they?” cried Martin, “you all have cocoa in Halloween Town? The Troll Mother had no idea what it was.”

“Oh for the sake of Holly!” shouted Cleo, “don’t you get it Martin? You are the father and Alfie is the brother.”

“What?”

“I can smell the elf in Frank’s veins,” said Santa, answering Martin’s confusion, “he is your son. You must have fathered him with the troll mother. It’s why, Frank,” he continued, addressing the troll, “it’s why you are smaller than normal. You’re half elf. Christmas Town is as much your home as Halloween Town. I, as its leader, welcome you.”

Frank was in shock. Suddenly there was a lot of movement around him. The elves were in shock, all shouting out and talking to one another in amazement of what they had just witnessed.

Martin had leapt up and cried out, “Alfie! Alfie! You have a little brother! Isn’t this great?” Alfie had promptly fainted, causing more chaos and temporarily distracting Martin from his new son. This was fine by Frank as Stephen beside him had now just dove on top of him and pulled him into a very tight and very warm hug.

His heart was beating wildly, his breathing fast and irregular, his stomach full of butterflies. Martin was his dad! Stephen was hugging him and smelt of happiness and cocoa!

Slowly Frank put his arms around Stephen, weakly returning the hug, He could feel the elf laughing, the vibrations going into his own body and suddenly making him feel hot. Stephen pulled away just enough so he could face Frank. They were very close, their noses almost touching.

“We have to teach you how to show affection here,” said Stephen softly, dark eyes drinking in the sight of Frank, “I’m sure Martin will be great for you.”

Seeing Frank was still speechless, Stephen leaned in and pressed a very soft and chaste kiss against Frank’s lips. They held the position for a while- Frank not daring to breathe- until slowly they parted, Stephen gently rubbing their noses together in an ‘eskimo kiss’ before they parted properly.

“Welcome home Frank.”

Frank smiled.

 


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Frank sat alone on the distant outskirts of Christmas Town- as he did every day. He bit into a jolly red apple and crunched away at it merrily. It had taken time for him to get used to eating vegetables and fruit, but Stephen had persisted and now he was growing fond of them. They were pretty good for him too; he was still pale, but his skin was clearer and he felt cleaner _inside_ \- if that made sense. Plus, he didn't feel bad about not looking like the others anymore. Seemed Stephen quite liked his skin and his body. He felt his skin warming as he thought of the leggy, slim elf. Stephen was still growing and well on his way to becoming a Tall Elf.  Frank was glad, Stephen had a good nature and would likely be one of the more sensible Tall Elves, more like Rosie than Fraser.

“Come on,” whined a sickly sweet voice deep in the cavern beneath him, interrupting his thoughts, “let me out. I’ll make it worth your while.”

He ignored her.

“You’re like me,” she persisted, “a monster…think of what we could achieve together.”

He looked down the crack between the two boulders. Underneath was a slightly dumpy lady with long black hair. She looked like a normal human; until she showed her teeth. All of them were razor sharp, not unlike a piranha’s. She could transform completely of course, but Frank had never seen her true form.

“Be quiet Krampus,” he barked, “I told you before: I ain’t interested in your tricks!”

The sun was a small, red sphere in a white sky that was now setting below the pale horizon. A long path of orange light stretched across the snowy fields and Frank knew it was time to go. He flung the apple behind him and, without saying goodbye to Krampus, made his way to his favourite place on Earth: home.

After the events of finding out his parentage, Father Christmas had kept Frank on as a guard for Krampus. Krampus was an evil child killer and had luckily been locked away for many centuries now. Father Christmas’ magic held her for so long, but it was exhausted, and so having a guard in the day was helpful. It used to be Tall Elves guarding her, but they were frightened of her and naturally incompetent at being cruel to anyone. Therefore, Frank- a naturally cold and an efficient jailor- was a god-send for poor Santa.

Frank had been given his own little house. Martin had wanted his son to live with him and Alfie, but Frank had the idea that Alfie wouldn’t like that too much and refused. Even Alfie couldn't pretend to be too bothered. The idea he was related to a monster still bothered him greatly.

Frank's home was different from the normal elf cottages. It was smaller and darker, with less windows.  The colours inside were dark blues and purples; the colours from back home. He had little furniture and everything he owned had a purpose. Nothing was for decoration. He lived a Spartan lifestyle, and liked it that way. The other elves were pretty good about it and didn't judge him. They tended to view him as eccentric more than anything else. He was certain that his being the son of the quite clearly mad Martin was part of their new opinion of him.

On all other elf walls were an array of photographs and pictures of family. Frank had none. His walls were bare. Not even Alfie and Martin had gotten through his hard, icy exterior. Frank hadn’t let them, for a few reasons, but the main one being that he didn’t trust Martin.

Perhaps Martin, despite his foolishness, knew this, and so this knowledge prompted him to seek out Frank that evening.

When the door knocked, Frank flung it open with a smile. That smile quickly vanished when he saw it was Martin at his door.

“Expecting Stephen?” asked Martin.

Frank nodded, but stepped aside to let Martin in.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” said Martin unconvincingly, looking around, “very modern.”

“What d’you want?” (Frank was nothing but ‘to the point.’)

“I was thinking about the past…” Said Martin quickly, in a manner that suggested he had been playing these words in his mind repeatedly, “I might not have been completely honest with Master Claus.”

“I know,” said Frank heavily. He sat down on his slim chaise lounge. “My brothers told me about you. IO know my mum tried to drown meat birth, but you stopped her.”

Martin nodded and grimaced as he admitted, “she also tried to set you on fire and threw you off a cliff. You were a tough little mite!”

“Is that why you left me with her?”

Martin looked at his son who stared back up at him with very large, dark eyes. He felt the old familiar, sinking feeling of shame; an emotion that he’d managed to compartmentalise and suffocate into almost nonexistence in that last few years.

“I had a son at home,” he said, almost pleading. He sat beside Frank, “Alfie was all alone here. You had a mum and brothers. I knew you were strong. So I thought you’d be ok. And you’ve made it here, haven’t you? So it’s all worked out.” He forced a tired smile at his younger child.

Frank turned away from it, “yeah I guess so.”

xxXXxx

Stephen listened to the whole story quietly whilst making Frank dinner that evening. The troll still had not learned how to cook; or rather, he _had_ tried but wasn’t very good at it. Truthfully, Stephen didn’t mind going round and cooking each evening. He liked Frank and as the Troll was busy guarding Krampus every day, it meant that the evenings were the only time they could spend together. No one was completely sure what the relationship between the boys was, including the boys themselves but whatever it was between them, they were both happy and relatively content.

They lived apart, as Stephen had quickly learned that Frank had moments of extreme moodiness. Often he would become quiet and sullen, getting lost in his own thoughts. It was best to leave him alone on those days, as Stephen was sure Frank was slowly working through things in his head. It was also part of Frank's nature. Secretly Stephen had been talking to Martin, trying to learn all he could about trolls. They were prone to low moods, anger and fits of violence. It was easier to make them sad than it was to make them happy. Whenever they felt insecure they would become cruel.

"So your mother actually tried to kill you?" he asked, turned away from Frank.

"Yeah," was the nonchalant response.

Stephen blinked away the tears forming in his eyes and gulped a few times before saying, "So she hurt you?"

"Mmm, yeah, sometimes."

Stephen thought back to Evie and all the other hurt children as his troll came up behind him. 

"What're making for food?" he asked. Frank was always hungry and always appreciated everything Stephen made, even if it wasn't very good.

Stephen turned and faced Frank. He took in the wide dark eyes set inside a pale, grumpy face. His heart let out a little skip, and he leaned forwards, kissing Frank very deeply suddenly. When they pulled apart, Frank blinked a few times (now his face slightly pink.)

"What was that for?"

Stephen smiled and shrugged.

"And Martin, is that it now?" He responded, bringing them back to the original conversation. Frank looked a little confused but allowed it; he was beginning to accept that Stephen would grace him with sporadic spots of intense affection.

“So that’s it,” continued Frank, “we both agreed that I’m alright and that’s the end of it.”

“But?”

“But what?”

Stephen turned away from the oven and faced his Troll. Frank looked a lot healthier and brighter, but still had the hard features of his mother’s race. Stephen did not mind, he liked how different Frank was.

“You wouldn’t be telling me this if it wasn’t bothering you babe. So, what’s the ‘but’?”

Frank gulped and shrugged, glancing at the floor, “but I still feel weird. I feel like I still don’t like him or even Alfie. I’m not sure I want to. I dunno…”

“It’s called resentment.” Stephen sat beside Frank and put his arm around Frank’s shoulders. “Martin abandoned you. Your mother was cruel and abusive, but he still left you there anyway. You’re allowed to be upset by this. You’re allowed to be angry.”

“But I’m ok,” insisted Frank, “I survived.”

“But surviving isn’t what a child- or even an adult- should have to do!” Stephen sighed and gave Frank a quick peck feeling at a loss of what to say but wanting to express his feelings. Stephen had only ever known happiness and love; Frank’s dark past was a mystery to him.

Frank looked at Stephen, analysing him.

“What?” Stephen grinned; Frank often looked at him this way, and it made him feel unnerved as well as sort of warm and funny inside.

“My mum tried to pawn me off on humans, but they didn’t want me. I was too ugly. My brothers didn’t like me because I’m short. Martin didn’t want me because I was a hassle to deal with and he already had a nice, pretty, blue-eyed boy of his own.” Frank turned towards Stephen, closing the already small gap between them, looking hard into Stephen’s eyes, “ _No one_ wants me because I’ve nothing to offer. So why do you-?”

Stephen leaned forwards and kissed Frank gently. The kiss was soft and sweet and full of promise. Stephen lifted his long arms and wrapped them around Frank’s neck. Frank’s hands were on Stephen’s hips, gently holding him still on the chaise. Slowly the boys parted, but Stephen leaned forwards and allowed their foreheads to touch.

“I care about you Frank,” he said, “because you are brave. You survived your family. You survived Halloween Town. You came all the way here on your own. You know you are different ad that you always will be, yet you’ve settled here and have become part of our community. We were all born here, but you have earned a place amongst us. You do the scariest job in Christmas Town and never complain.” He kissed Frank again, a simple loving peck this time, “and most of all, you have had the good taste to pick me a your…partner? Boyfriend? Bae?”

Frank laughed, pulling away at last and breaking some of the tension, “give us whatever label you like. But yeah. I have picked you, and you’ve picked me, so that means…”

“So,” smiled Stephen, holding Frank’s hands now, “that means Happily Ever After.”

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this :) I wanted just to have some closure near the end.


End file.
